A Warrior's Heart Read online

  A low moan, barely human, lifted the fine hairs on her arms. Rubbing her arms, she repressed a shudder.

  She was a NaturPath. She had to try.

  Cheyna placed her hands against his face. Beneath the tips of her fingers, she felt a slight roughness. Concerned, she leaned closer.

  How strange. Uneven indentations similar to scar tissue pressed into the flesh directly behind both temples. They reminded her of healed burns.

  He moaned again.

  She'd worry about the source of the marks later. Now, she had more immediate concerns.

  Hands on his temples, Cheyna drew several cleansing breaths. She opened her mind. She thought she knew what to expect, but instead of the strong but unfocused sensation of impairment, a barrage of sights, sounds, and smells assaulted her. Dark, deadly colors, so brilliant they threatened to shred sanity, swirled and mingled with a cacophony of sound. She gagged at the maelstrom of odors overlaying it all. Madness encased Cheyna in its dark shroud.

  Terror clogged her throat. Locked in the same mental cage as her patient, she was mired in his loop of horror. Down, down, down. Deeper into madness. If she would just quit resisting, the pain would go away. All she had to do was give in.

  A shimmering thread appeared. Follow it. Leave the pain behind. Her thoughts were drawn after the lovely tendril.

  No! She refused to give up without a fight. Not on herself, and certainly not on her patient.

  Cheyna pulled back.

  The shimmering ribbon turned black, snarling and hissing as it lashed out with deadly force.

  Without thought, acting purely on instinct, Cheyna countered with a force of her own. The two met, tangled. Aware that the slightest misstep meant her death, she wrapped her will around the thread, strangling it until it at last withered and turned to dust. Grimly, she turned her attention to the other writhing tendrils. Slowly, one by one, they disintegrated.

  Her hands fell to the pillow.

  The man rolled his head on the pillow. He moaned, the sound weak but without the fevered intensity of before. To Cheyna, exhausted and drenched with sweat, it was a beautiful sound. He opened his eyes.

  Fierce exultation filled her as she met his bewildered gaze. She had done it. A fine trembling seized her limbs. Concealing her weariness, she met the man's growing fear with renewed confidence.

  "Do not attempt to speak. I am Cheyna of the Cl--, Fchion. I am a NaturPath. Your son brought me to tend to your wounds. He is very concerned about you." At the mention of his son, he relaxed. She answered his unasked question. "Tanni is tending the animals. I will call him shortly."

  "You were mauled, but I do not believe the wounds will permanently disable you." Her brows pulled together in a slight frown. "I regret to say I am from a different district, so am not as learned as I would wish about the animals in this area. Do you recall what manner of animal inflicted your wounds?"

  Panic reappeared at her question.

  "Be peaceful." She stroked his temple and he quieted. "It is of no matter. The NaturPath of this area will know." Again, that baffling flare of panic. Cheyna continued her explanation, allowing the even cadence of her voice to project an aura of safety and peace.

  "Do not struggle to recall. Your mind is protecting itself by blocking out unpleasant memories. You will remember when you are ready." She gathered her medicinal supplies, replacing them in their special lining. "I will leave word of my treatments so a NaturPath can follow up on them. I will leave medication for infection and the pain with Tanni." She looked at him. "You have a very special son. He cares for you very much."

  She stood and touched her palms together at her waist. "May fortune and health favor your family." Cheyna inclined her head in leave and went to find Tanni.

  She did not have far to look. Tanni was pretending to groom an animal in the pen closest to the house. When he saw Cheyna, he dropped the brush and ran to her.

  "Is Da going to get better now?"

  She wanted to protest at the hope and belief she saw in his eyes. Instead, she smoothed a rebellious lock of light brown hair off the boy's forehead.

  "In time, Tanni, in time. Your father is still very ill. Tanni?" she asked as it occurred to her. "Why did you not contact the NaturPath from Shhiv? Why come to me, a stranger?"

  Tanni stared at the ground. "Da was escorting NaturPath Sirri to the outlying district." His amberish brown gaze, fierce with defiance and conviction, shot up to meet hers. "Da wouldn't have come back without her if she was still alive, I don't care what condition he was in. Da would've brought her back!" His expression belligerent, his small, work-worn hands fisted at his sides.

  "I believe you, Tanni," Cheyna said gently. "Your father is a man of honor and integrity. He could not be otherwise and raise a son as loyal as you. That is why I am entrusting his care to you. But," she warned, "you will need assistance. Is there someone you can call on?"

  Tanni looked at her with something approaching hero worship. He nodded. "A neighbor. She said I could call on her if there was the need." Left unspoken was the implication 'if his father lived'.

  "I left a salve in a blue jar. Apply some to his wounds each morn. Just a thin film, mind. Continue until it is all used. I also left medication for pain. Do not give it to him unless the pain is very bad. Use the measure in the pouch. One level measure to a glass of warm water, and stir until all the powder is dissolved. Do this as required, but no more than three times a day, and no closer than morn, noon and eve. It will help, I promise."

  She brushed at the lock of hair once more. "I must go now. I will check on your father before I leave the township."

  "But, my lady, what if Da needs a NaturPath?" Though Tanni tried to hide it, his fear fairly radiated from him.

  "I will speak with my bondhusband. He will arrange for another NaturPath if the Council has not already done so. Knowing Drakthe, matters will move most swiftly." She grinned down at the child. "My bondhusband does not like to wait nor, I must add, is he any good at the task. I am working on that fault. It is," she sighed, "a most fearsome task I have set myself." She leaned down. "Let's keep that bit of knowledge between ourselves."

  Tanni grinned back. "I won't tell, my lady. Promise. Is it, I mean, can I go see my da now?"

  "He would like that very much. Just remember my instructions." Cheyna couldn't prevent her satisfied smile as Tanni ran eagerly to the door, hesitated, and then opened it and slipped inside. Her patient was in good hands.

  Once more on her way to the hot waters, reaction set in despite her efforts at control. Fresh in her mind were images that still contained the power to terrify. But what disturbed her even more was her inability to understand what they meant.

  A shiver feathered her bare arms as the evening air cooled her overheated flesh. Cheyna gave a small start at the lateness of the hour. She'd better hurry. Drakthe's mood earlier had been uncertain. Needless to say, he would not be pleased to discover she did not immediately do as requested.

  A spurt of impish humor caused her lips to curve. Request was probably too generous a term. The man did have difficulty with even the most basic skills of civility.

  Rounding a curve in the well-worn track, she was relieved to see the entrance to the caves. Already, she could feel the warm, mineral waters relaxing her tense muscles.

  The entry cave was large and quite well lit, with strategically placed benches and pegs for hanging clothes. In recessed niches stacks of white robes were neatly folded.

  Several passages extended off of the main cave. Curious, Cheyna peeked down them, expecting to see or hear others on their way to or from the springs.

  All was exquisitely quiet. The silence reminded her of the High Plains on Rpiere. She stood there a long moment, soaking in the blessed sereneness. A twinge of regret hit her. She had not realized just how much she missed the peace of Rpiere.

  She shook herself. She'd better hurry or Drakthe would become truly furious. Shrugging out of her travel clothes, Cheyna donned a soft, nubby robe. />
  A neatly lettered sign directed her down the proper passage for the communal pools. She padded down the twisting tunnel, anticipating the benefits of the thermal springs.

  "Was the path so ill marked that you lost your way, House-daughter?"

  Chapter 9

  Cheyna stared at Drakthe, clothed in the shadows of the cave. Gold eyes gleamed from the semi-darkness, eyes that made a mockery of the Fire of Destruction's danger.

  Her silence seemed to infuriate him. He glided forward, his boots eerily silent on the stone floor.

  "Answer me, bondwife. Was the way so ill marked that it required nigh onto a full day to locate the pools?"

  Belatedly, Cheyna realized Drakthe was coldly enraged. She backed a pace, lowered her head, and sought to appease him as she had once before.

  "My lord, I was--"

  "Or is your sense of direction so faulty that you could not find your way?" Drakthe took another slow, deliberate pace forward.

  "Neither. If you will just allow me to explain, my lord. I was--" Cheyna began gnawing on her bottom lip when, again, he didn't allow her to finish. Not even when he believed her to be an assassin had he been so furious. Determined to stand her ground, to make him listen, Cheyna found herself falling back.

  Inside Drakthe, a raging fury unlike anything he'd ever known battled a growing fear. Lcrier's suggestion that Cheyna was regretting her bargain had merely reinforced his own doubts. After all, why shouldn't she prefer Lcrier to himself? Only one reason had come to mind: the trade route.

  He'd managed to contain his doubts, stuff them into a dark corner of his soul, until he found she wasn't at the hot springs. What if the promise of profit wasn't enough to keep her with him? After seeing Lcrier, with his House badge and all he could offer, had she decided to go with him?

  She knew he'd track her down, and when he found her he wouldn't be in the best of moods.

  The knowledge returned a modicum of control. Cheyna wasn't stupid. She knew the price of such an act would be steep. But what about a betrayal on another level? Did she realize the price for that betrayal would be just as high? If not, she soon would.

  Settled back against the rough walls of the cavern, he waited for her. He ignored the way the rock captured and reflected the heat of the springs. The fire in him burned hotter than the molten lava deep in the earth that heated the waters.

  Advancing on Cheyna now, he remembered the long hours that passed before his bondwife had deigned to appear. His fury increased another degree as his relief that she hadn't left was buried beneath the pain of her betrayal. He wrapped his hand around the krees on his baldric, rubbing the worn hilt. An offense she would not soon again make. His mistake had been in allowing her too much latitude, but that was about to change.

  "What's the matter, House-daughter? Can't think of a suitable tale to weave for your bondmate? Didn't Lcrier help you prepare one?" he snarled softly, crowding Cheyna until his chest was almost touching hers.

  "Lord Lcrier? What has he to do with this?" She shot a quick glance behind her, skirting a pool just in time before she was forced to resume her retreat. "My lord, if you will but listen, I can explain." Her air of serenity began to unravel.

  "What will you explain, House-daughter? Will you explain that you regret tying yourself to a houseless bastard? Or will you explain why, when I came to lend you a hand, you were no where to be found? Perhaps you'd care to explain why your former bond-promise was also missing?" One at a time, he flung the words at her.

  Cheyna's mouth dropped. She halted and planted her hands against his chest. Drakthe was so surprised, he stopped.

  "First you accuse me of improper behavior toward High Lord Krthe." She gave a surprisingly hard push.

  Drakthe stumbled back a step.

  "Then you decide that, no, I must be an assassin sent to murder the mighty Merchant Master." She glared at him. "Now, you have decided you were right the first time. I must be a complete wanton to go from the arms of one man to those of another."

  The hard cold knot inside Drakthe, the one that made the simple act of breathing painful, slowly unraveled as the meaning behind his bondwife's display of fury seeped beneath the wall of suppressed pain.

  Mistaken. He had been mistaken. Cheyna hadn't been with the vseal, after all.

  Drakthe restrained a grin as she continued to tongue-lash him. His little NaturPath was more furious than he'd ever seen her.

  "Do you want to know where I have been?" Cheyna shoved him, her anger unabated. "While you have been suspecting me of betraying you with Lord Lcrier, I have been tending a wounded man." She angled her head back further, meeting his gaze with an unflinching fury of her own.

  "Cheyna..." he began.

  "My lord," she mocked, and shoved again.

  This time she wasn't going to soothe his ire, Drakthe realized. He had grown rather used to the way she calmed his temper. Unsure what to make of this new Cheyna, he took another step back.

  "Are you disappointed that I was not with Lord Lcrier? That I was not busy lying under him and betraying you?" She gave one final push.

  Drakthe felt himself going backward in slow motion. He flailed, trying to catch his balance. He toppled into the pool, the water closing over him. Warm, almost hot, water flooded his nose and mouth. The last thing he saw was the look of satisfaction on his bondwife's face. Surfacing, he shook the water and wet hair out of his eyes.

  Hands on her hips, Cheyna glared down him, righteous indignation written on her face. "You, my lord, are an insensitive, untrusting, blind...," she searched for a suitable epithet, "warrior!"

  Drakthe stared up, bemused, at his bondwife as he trod water in the middle of the sloping pool. Cheyna shimmered with rage. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shot sparks. He wondered why he wasn't boiled alive by her ire. She was so mad, her anger seemed to reach out and wrap around him.

  One corner of his mouth crooked upward in an involuntary smile. She was magnificent.

  Cheyna saw the slight smile and whatever small remnant of control she possessed, evaporated. "Now you are laughing at me!" she exploded. "I have so little consequence in your eyes that you cannot even take me seriously." She inhaled. The sharp tang of mineral water hit the back of her throat. Reigning in the violent emotions shuddering through her, she came to a decision.

  "It is best if we nullify our agreement. Even to you it must be obvious that we do not suit."

  The half smile on Drakthe's face disappeared as though it had never been. A sudden uneasiness robbed Cheyna of her voice. A strange light kindled in Drakthe's gold eyes as he tread water.

  Cheyna turned to flee.

  With the speed of a striking dalanth, he surged up and out of the pool. One arm locked around her waist, he yanked her into the water with him as he fell back.

  Mouth open, unsure whether to scream or berate him, she hastily closed it as he dragged her beneath the surface of the steaming water. Although it felt like ages, she couldn't have been under the water for more than a few seconds before Drakthe stood, letting her catch her breath.

  Spitting out water, she rounded on him. "You, you...."

  He let go, allowing her to sink before hauling her back up.

  "Listen well, House-daughter. You are not going to nullify our bargain. We made a deal, you and I, and by Jkael, regret it or not, you are going to honor it."

  "You dare speak to me of honor?"

  "I dare." Water streamed off his shoulders. Even standing in the middle of a pool, fully dressed, Drakthe didn't lose one iota of his arrogance.

  "Is it honorable to suspect me of betraying you after I pledged my honor to yours?" she seethed, and then despaired of the ease with which this man made a mockery of a lifetime of control. Around him she had less control than a cub. She shamed Sbraithe and Slia and the Clan Ktana by forgetting their teachings, but restraint e'er slipped away from her when Drakthe prodded.

  "My lord, we fight all the time. Serenity is lacking between us. Can you not see we do not suit?
"

  "Drakthe. My name is Drakthe. Use it." He gripped her by the chin.

  Cheyna stared into his eyes. "Drakthe." She ran her tongue over her lips. "This is what I mean, my lord...Drakthe. Between us everything is a battle. Why will you not see that?" she cried passionately.

  "Life is a battle," he countered, a cynical twist to his mouth. "You have an unreal view of life, bondwife. Relations between a man and a woman can never be serene. Serenity exists only in the grave." His mood shifted. "You're wrong about one point. While we differ in our outlook on life, House-daughter, in some areas we suit very well. Very well indeed," he rasped, fitting his mouth over hers.

  Cheyna stiffened in resistance.

  He widened his stance, locking her intimately against his body. She twisted her head to one side, her breath coming in short pants as his need and anger swirled over her to mingle with her outrage and hurt.

  "Do not, Drakthe." Cheyna struggled to close her mind to his. "Do not," she whispered again, as his hips moved against hers with demanding intent. "This is not fair."

  His head snapped back. "Fair? Fair, House-daughter?" His eyes glittered. "You want to talk fair? First you force the meeting with Lcrier and expect me to accept it like a tame taiger, then you disappear for hours at a time, leaving me to wonder if perhaps you regret the loss of a recognized House name. Jkael take it, woman, I am not accustomed to feeling unsure," he roared before erasing the slight distance between their lips.

  Her hands closed into small fists and she clamped her mouth shut. She fought to ignore his angry bewilderment. Not this time. This time she would not allow the powerful pull of mindlinking to weaken her resolve. She pounded his shoulder as it sank in that he still did not trust her word.

  Drakthe, one arm around Cheyna's waist, used his free hand to secure her head. He shook his head to clear it as waves of outrage washed over him. Jkael, the woman had the power to make him mad. It seemed every time he took her in his arms she crawled right inside his skin.